


Where We Land

by stoleyouaway



Category: Glee
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Breakup, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:16:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1814938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stoleyouaway/pseuds/stoleyouaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the middle of a hurricane, Blaine found his saving grace in the form of a brilliant beam of light and a radiant angel. But when Blaine's angel is taken away, and the light has left, he comes to the realization that his love must be stronger than every other opposing force that will try to tear it down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

In the middle of a hurricane, Blaine found his saving grace in the form of a brilliant beam of light and a radiant angel. He guided Blaine through the storm with a gentle hand and he came out the other side alive and more whole than he thought possible. It seemed that finally,  _finally_ , Blaine's world could be complete; the holes left by his abusive father were patched with only the caressing touch of the boy's skin against his. The love that grew inside him was tentative and fragile, lost and wasted in childhood innocence. Blaine was a blanket, bits of memories sewn together with blind trust and loyalty. There was no one he could imagine loving more, or needing more, than Kurt. The very idea of spending an eternity with another was unfathomable, so beyond Blaine's realm of thought that it never even crossed his mind: until it crossed Kurt's.

And then the idea of being apart became all Blaine could think about. What if, after their impending separation, Kurt decided he needed to experience people beyond him? They'd said forever, but at the age of eighteen who really  _meant_ it? How did Blaine know that it wasn't just another word, flippantly dropped because it sounded appropriate in that moment? How did he know that Kurt wouldn't find someone better, and leave him to fall apart again?

The thoughts tortured Blaine night and day, turning him into a twisted mass of nerves and fears. The oppressing terror of the inevitable goodbye weighed tremendously on his shoulders. Any day, he thought, the nightly phone call from Kurt would be the last one, and then the most cherished thing in his life would be gone. Any day, Blaine would be alone again.

All he needed was a distraction. No, what he really needed then was a  _friend._  And for the first time since Kurt left, he felt like he had none. So he turned to the next best thing, which for Blaine ended up being meaningless sex with a stranger just to escape the absolute agony of his love. And in doing so, he not only wrecked the only relationship he really ever believed in – he also broke the heart of the one person he swore he'd never hurt.

The only thing more painful than coming to terms with his horrifying mistake was the idea of having to own up to it. He could see Kurt's face in his mind even before he'd said anything, red and streaked with tears that he knew he would cause. He could imagine how painful it would be to say those horrible words, but he never experienced more pain then when they finally fell from his lips. The way Kurt's face fell and crumpled, the way his chest caved in when he sobbed, the way his lower lip stuck out when he cried was what Blaine knew he would remember forever. It was everything Blaine had never wanted to see on his love's face. More than anything he wanted to take Kurt in his arms and kiss away his tears, but how could he, when he was the initial cause? It was as if he'd been swept up into some alternate universe, where he was the villain, no longer able to come to Kurt's rescue because how could he save Kurt from himself? How could he argue or fight, when deep down he knew Kurt should walk away from him? Leave Blaine alone and miserable, because that's what he deserved.

Kurt deserved so much better than anything Blaine could offer him. But that didn't stop him from trying to make things better.

But they didn't get better, not really. Because Kurt became exasperated with the constant phone calls, Blaine begging and pleading with him for forgiveness and more chances to make it better. Kurt needed time and space from Blaine, that he knew. But it was so hard – almost  _too_ hard – to finally relinquish Kurt, to let him go, to let him be free. Blaine was nothing but a prison, and Kurt had been locked up for too long.

There were some low points – although Blaine had too much pride to mention it – and times where he felt very ashamed of his thoughts. There were times when he was so desperate for a way out that a razor would find its way into his hand, and he'd manage to stop himself before he brought it to his skin – but only just. Every night he would sit alone in his bedroom, and remember times when he and Kurt would sing and dance and snuggle and kiss and make love, right there on his bed. He could remember the way his skin tasted, smooth and sweet beneath his tongue. He remembered the feeling of Kurt's lips on his own, fitting together in a way that felt to Blaine like being home. He could still feel the hard bones of Kurt's hips, fingers forming bruises as Blaine pressed into him, hot breath washing over them when he was finally inside. He remembered the way Kurt moaned and writhed in the bed sheets, hands clutching the pillow tightly, kissing Blaine for all he was worth, until the sensations were too much and he came with a shudder between them, his back arching up into Blaine's body as they rode out their ecstasy together. He could remember everything so clearly – everything was written down, in the sheets, on the walls, through the air - so Blaine just curled up under the covers and soaked in the last remnants of Kurt.

There was little solace to be found in anyone but Sam, and even he didn't always give advice. But for the first time, Blaine was talking to someone who actually  _listened_ and told him what he needed to hear. Sam was the only one who didn't make him feel villainous and evil for his mistake, even if Blaine felt that himself. Maybe that source of solace was what made Blaine think his feelings for Sam could be genuine – but his childish adoration paled in comparison to the absolute, agonizing love he reserved for Kurt alone.

Burt Hummel became his guardian angel. Although Burt had never been one for heavy words, they talked long and deeply, and Blaine may have shed a tear or two, but he admitted to his mistake and Burt asked how he could make it better. That was it – no fanfare, no shouting or angry words, even if Blaine had deeply hurt his only son. All Burt wanted was to see the two of them heal. And so Blaine agreed he would go to New York with him at Christmas and surprise Kurt, all the while wondering if it was a very bad idea indeed.

"Package for Mr. Kurt Hummel," he'd said as he skated up behind him, unable to keep his smile off his face when Kurt turned around and he saw his face in person for the first time in months. Everything he'd been feeling and held back rushed to the surface in that moment, staring into those oceanic blue eyes and knowing he couldn't say anything, knowing that bringing it up would only ruin the moment. So Blaine stayed silent but eager, and Kurt was surprised but happy. And their time together before Blaine returned home was light and fun, pieces of their friendship rising up out of the ashes of their relationship. Blaine could see on Kurt's face how much he'd already lost him, could tell that Kurt was much farther distanced from their relationship than Blaine could ever hope to be. Every time Kurt gushed about how much he loved working in New York, Blaine's heart sunk a little more until it lay in a puddle by his feet. Kurt was moving on, Blaine thought, and more quickly than he'd imagined. He almost wished for a sad smile, or a teary eye – something to let Blaine know that a part of him missed what they'd had. But Blaine saw nothing – Kurt was happy and cheery and more himself than he'd been in a long time. New York, NYADA, Vogue – it all suited him perfectly. Blaine left feeling more than a bit disappointed and heartsick.

* * *

And then there was the phone call. It had woken Blaine up, and Kurt was never one to call late at night. He'd grabbed his phone and spoken incomprehensibly, eyes still bleary and adjusting to the darkness. Kurt, however, was even more perplexingly inarticulate, and soon it became apparent to Blaine exactly why. It seemed that Kurt was very intoxicated, and Blaine only felt a moment to be bemused – Kurt had never touched alcohol in his life before – before he started fully comprehending what Kurt was slurring. Though some of it was unintelligible mumbling, very clearly Blaine caught the words "Adam," "sexy," and "ohmygod Blaine sooo drunk." Blaine was silent, shell-shocked and confused, but it was obvious that Kurt expected him to say something back, because there was a heavy silence on the line.

"Oh," Blaine said, eyebrows pulling together tightly. "Who's this Adam?"

There was a light, airy giggle from the other side of the line. "My  _boyfriend,_ " Kurt emphasized. "I think I  _love_ him, Blaine. You know?"

Blaine gulped, hard. "That's . . . good, Kurt. Good for you." It was forced, but he knew Kurt would be too drunk to notice.

"I  _know_. He's such a good dancer, and he has an  _accent._  He—," and Kurt was interrupted by someone. Blaine's eyebrows furrowed deeper, listening closely. There was background noise – maybe Kurt was in a bar somewhere – and heard another voice, distinctly male.

"Just Blaine," Kurt said distantly. There was a shout, a scuffling noise, and then a click. The line went dead.

Blaine fell back asleep with a knot in his stomach.

* * *

For four straight, solid weeks, Blaine heard not one word from Kurt, not even indirectly through Rachel or Burt. They had agreed to be friends at Christmas, but Kurt had not texted or called or emailed. Maybe he was busy with school, or his internship, or Adam; maybe he'd just forgotten. Either way, Blaine's heart ached with missing him.

As Valentine's Day approached, Mr. Schuester approached him after glee club, an envelope in his hand. His face was concerned; Blaine half-smiled at him, head hanging low.

"How have things been, Blaine? You haven't been yourself."

"It's—"

"Kurt?" Mr. Schuester guessed. Blaine nodded. "Have you heard from him at all?"

"Not in a while. Last time we talked was around New Year's, and it sounded like he was dating someone else."

"I'm sorry, Blaine." He put his hands on Blaine's shoulders. "I was really hoping it would work between the two of you."

"Yeah," said Blaine miserably. "Me too."

Mr. Schuester handed Blaine the envelope. "Emma and I are getting married on Valentine's Day. We hope you can make it."

Blaine slipped the envelope in his bag. "I'll make sure to. Should I prepare a song?"

Mr. Schuester smiled. "Definitely."


	2. Two

"Blaine?"

"Kurt?" said Blaine eagerly, his heart stopping. "How are you?"

"Good, Blaine. I . . . I really need to talk to you."

"Okay," Blaine replied hesitantly, crawling onto his bed, placing a pillow in his lap and holding it tight to his chest. It still hurt to hear Kurt's voice. "What's wrong?"

"Well, nothing, not really anyway. I just . . . I needed to hear your voice." Kurt sounded conflicted, and a little out of breath.

Blaine's lips pursed, thin with tension. He felt his pulse in the tips of his fingers and in his cheeks. "Are you sure you're okay? You don't sound like yourself."

"I—yes, I'm okay. I just . . . really needed to apologize about the phone call from a month ago. I was completely hammered, and I wasn't thinking straight. I shouldn't have called you; to be truthful, I can't even remember what I said. Something embarrassing, no doubt. Adam told me that the alcohol really loosened my lips." Blaine swallowed, although it was difficult past the lump lodged in his throat. "Anyway . . . that's it. I just needed to apologize."

"Oh." Blaine could barely breathe past his disappointment. "Well, I forgive you. I—how have you been, Kurt?"

Kurt didn't answer for a few moments. "Fine," he said finally.

"Really?" Blaine knew him enough to be suspicious. "You don't really sound it. Your voice is kind of shaky."

"I know, I—I'm just really stressed about school is all. And I'm trying to make it home for the wedding, but I don't really have enough money and I really wanted to go if I could—"

"You're going to be at the wedding?" Blaine's voice was high and breathy with hope.

"If I can afford it, of course I'm going. When have I ever passed up the opportunity to dress up?"

Blaine laughed, a cute quiet squeak. "That's true," he responded quietly. After a long moment of silence, Blaine finally piped up again. "Kurt . . . are, are you happy?"

Blaine was expecting a 'yes, of course, I'm living my dream,' or something similar that would crush him to pieces. But it didn't come.

"I don't know anymore, Blaine. I don't even remember what happy feels like." The raw honesty in Kurt's voice stilled Blaine and silenced him. "Were we happy, Blaine? Together?"

Blaine swallowed hard and tried to find his voice. "Do you not remember?"

"I do, of course I do, but my memories of us have just been clouded with all this hurt and I can't seem to see past it. I think about you and it hurts. I think about what we had and how special it was, and it hurts. And there's only pain now, and it overshadows the happy. Do you know what I mean?"

Blaine nodded, even though Kurt couldn't see him. He adjusted his grip on the pillow in his lap, clutching it until his knuckles turned white. "Yes." A single tear fell, quickly followed by more. Blaine's voice cracked, but he continued, uncaring. "I feel so _guilty_ , Kurt, every second of the day. So guilty and horrible and ashamed that I threw you away, that I threw away what we had. And I just don't know to tell you how sorry I am, or how I could possibly ask for your forgiveness." Blaine took a breath, and it rattled with tears and agony. "Do you think . . . we'll ever be together again? Do you think we'll ever have what we had before?"

"No." The rejection was immediate and skewered Blaine like a dagger. He put a hand over his heart to stop the wound from bleeding, but the blood flowed nevertheless. "If we ever end up together again, we'll be stronger. We won't be careless children; we'll know how to maintain it without letting it fall through our hands again."

"So . . . there's hope?"

Kurt chuckled – as in, he actually  _laughed._ "Of course there is, Blaine. Don't you believe in soulmates? Or fate? Don't you believe that we're meant for each other?"

Blaine was choked by the words he never thought he'd hear Kurt utter ever again. "Of course I do."

"All we need is time, Blaine. Time apart is good for us, and you have to understand that we need to live our lives separately before we can live them together. Forever is a huge commitment; we need to know that we're ready before we decide to do this again."

"But what about Adam?"

Kurt scoffed loudly. "What about him?"

Blaine smiled for the first time in months. His personal raincloud had vanished.

Kurt had given Blaine a promise. Kurt had promised Blaine the rest of his life, no matter what – and that was everything that mattered.

* * *

Blaine was jittery in the weeks leading up to the wedding, and everyone else saw the improvement in his mood. No one asked, afraid that Blaine was putting on a front that would crumble at the first sign of attack. No one except for Sam, who correctly correlated Blaine's unmistakable joy with the knowledge that Kurt was returning to Lima for the wedding.

"Is it Kurt?" he'd asked out of the blue, holding open Blaine's locker door while he put away his textbooks. Blaine had nearly dropped his books in shock, turning to look at Sam with an incredulous expression.

"Is  _what_ Kurt?" Blaine retorted, eyebrows pulling together.

Sam smirked. "You've been jubilant lately. You keep getting this look on your face when you daydream – I know that face. You only look like that when you're thinking about Kurt."

Blaine smiled in spite of himself, wiping his hand across his mouth. "I didn't know I did that." After a moment, he looked up at Sam. "I think . . . I think we're going to get back together, Sam. I think he's going to give me a second chance. I—," Blaine broke off, his voice shaky and his golden eyes wet. "I just can't wait to see him."

Sam wrapped his arm around Blaine's shoulder, pulling him in for a tight hug. "I'm happy for you," he whispered fiercely, fighting back emotion. Over the course of the year, Blaine had become his best friend, and this was the first time since breaking up with Kurt that Sam saw him genuinely happy. "You two need to be together. Okay?"

Blaine pulled back, his eyes welling with gratitude. He nodded. "Thank you, Sam." He whispered.

 


	3. Three

Blaine's hands shook with nervousness as he adjusted his bowtie yet again in the mirror. Today was the day. He'd never been more scared in his life, but the feeling was also partly adrenaline. Nothing –  _nothing_ – could ruin this day.

After checking his hair for the tenth time since that morning, Blaine grabbed his suit jacket from the chair next to him. Facing himself in the mirror, he looked into his own face and breathed deeply, chest rising and falling in synchronicity with his reflection. Blaine looked into his own eyes and said, very softly, "I cheated on Kurt." The words ached leaving his lips, but he bit back the feeling and repeated it. Blaine said it again and again until the words were permanently etched into the air, his sin lain out before him. Blaine burned the words into his memory, intangible admonitions of his foolish mistake. He then amended the statement by continuing, "But I love him. And I will make this work." He wiped his tears and shook out his limbs, shaking off the odd combination of anxiety and dread. Guilt still weighed down his chest, but the final recognition of his actions lessened the pressure. Blaine pinched the inside of his wrist to ground himself and keep his mind awake. If he retreated into his own mind wallow and regret now, he would never return.

Blaine pulled his suit jacket on, smoothing down the lapels carefully. He ran over song lyrics in his mind, distracting himself in the best way he knew how.

There was a knock on the door; Finn and Sam entered the room, quickly followed by Artie, Joe, Ryder and Jake. Blaine smiled, but the smiles that were returned to him were pitying – all except for Sam, who exchanged a knowing glance with Blaine. It was just one look, but it filled him with an indescribable amount of courage.

Finn called Blaine over to help him with his bowtie, but Blaine ambled over nervously, his feet dragging. He knew eventually he'd have to talk to Finn about Kurt. He'd just hoped it would be any time after right that moment.

"Hey," Finn said softly, offering Blaine a half-smile. Blaine nodded, bemused at Finn's gentle voice, but worked on tying his black satin bowtie. "How are you?"

Blaine had to stop his fingers for a moment and look up into Finn's face. "I've been better," said Blaine honestly, a little hoarse.

"What is it? Are you sick?"

Blaine shook his head, finishing the bow and adjusting it on Finn's neck. It kept him from having to look up into Finn's eyes. "I'm nervous about seeing Kurt."

"Oh. Yeah, I figured as much." Finn put his hands in his lap, and there was an uncomfortable silence. Blaine was about to walk away when Finn finally reached out and placed a huge hand on his shoulder. "I hope it works out."

Blaine didn't know whether or not Finn actually meant that, but it was still nice to hear. It was one of many times he wished Finn was still his friend.

The door creaked open once more and Mr. Schuester slipped into the room, a thousand-watt smile on his face. Everyone gathered around him and wished him luck and offered him preposterous advice. The moment felt like a paramount to something, but Blaine couldn't figure out exactly what. Somehow, it felt like an ending.

"It's showtime," Mr. Schue whispered, and all the boys put their heads together, just like in show circle. "Thank you all so much for being here."

"We wouldn't miss it for the world Mr. Schue," Finn responded, to the murmuring assents of the rest. "Now go get hitched."

They filed out of the hotel room in the order in which they would stand at the altar, with Mr. Schuester at the front and Ryder pushing Artie at the rear. Finn, as Mr. Schuester's best man, stood directly in front of Blaine, completely blocking his view of the room and the guests, although he craned his neck to look around. When he had finally taken his place next to the altar, his eyes were able to search for those iridescent cerulean orbs he needed to see – but he searched vainly. A pit of disappointment settled deep within his stomach, but the bridesmaids were walking down the aisle, followed by Emma, looking as brilliant and beautiful as anyone he'd ever seen, so he tried to shove his feelings away and concentrate on the ceremony. It went flawlessly, and Blaine had to stifle tears when it came time for the vows, and he was beaming and clapping right along with everyone else. The bridesmaids and groomsmen paired off and strode down the aisle after the happy couple. Tina hooked his arm and patted it softly, leaning in and whispering an encouragement that Blaine barely heard.

Kurt wasn't here. He hadn't come. The world felt like it was going to cave in, like his lungs were going to burst from a lack of oxygen, like his legs were going to give out on him. It was sensory overload and deprivation all at once, and there was a rush in his ears that blocked out all other noise. He escorted Tina to the reception hall, but his mind was thousands of miles away, in New York where he knew Kurt was, sitting in his living room, feeling disappointed that he missed the wedding. Blaine knew Kurt's disappointment was nothing compared to the suffocating feeling Blaine was desperately trying to fight. That only served to increase the wringing of his own heart in his hands.

Blaine sat Tina down at her seat on Emma's side and walked over to where the groomsmen were sitting only to find no empty seats. Bemused, he twirled around in a circle, certain that he'd missed his chair, but there were none.

"Blaine!" Mr. Schuester called out to him from his seat next to Emma. Blaine walked over, his face etched with confusion. "I hope you don't mind, but we had a last minute guest and no extra seats, so I put the two of you together at that table down there."

Blaine turned and looked where he was pointing, and his heart jumped into his throat, his blood running cold. Sitting at a small circular table to the side of dining room, carefully patting and fixing his hair, effortlessly taking Blaine's breath away, was Kurt Hummel.

Before Blaine was conscious of where his feet were taking him, he stopped in front of Kurt and let out a short breath that alerted Kurt to his presence. Kurt glanced up and at once his eyes widened and his smiled widely, standing at once. He reached out to envelope Blaine but apparently thought better of it, because he offered his hand instead, and Blaine took it in both of his.

 _I love you_. "Hi Kurt," Blaine said strongly, albeit bashfully. He couldn't stop his eyes from raking up and down Kurt's body, taking in every part of him. He'd matured in a few months; maybe it wasn't in his physicality, but it was certainly in his eyes. There was a hardness in those blue eyes that made Blaine feel like they'd frozen to ice. Kurt had put up a wall; the realization that it was to defend himself against  _Blaine_ was what felt to Blaine like a punch in the stomach. There was, however, a redness to his cheeks and a fiery heat to his skin that betrayed his cold expression, his resolute denial and solitude that was keeping Blaine out. Somehow, dressed in black and white, Kurt had never looked more vibrant, or tragically beautiful, or alive. Blaine felt like he was looking into a crystal ball: the Kurt standing before him could be Kurt ten years in the future, adult and mature and still devastatingly handsome. In that moment, Blaine could not think of any reason to restrain himself from reaching out to Kurt and taking him into his arms and never letting go, but then Kurt pulled his hands back and Blaine regained enough of his composure to back away.

"Hi Blaine," Kurt said softly, like he did when they were young, still two best friends with no clue how to love each other, but with enough desire and passion to believe they could.

And then there was a silence, because what else could be said? The apologies had been given and received and accepted. It resulted in a standoff that Blaine had not anticipated or expected, and it left him flailing for words to say that wouldn't scare Kurt away. Kurt had said there was hope for them, but how did it start? How could they begin to heal? How could they start over?

"Dance with me," Kurt said, holding out his hand.

And they danced.


	4. Four

Blaine cleared his throat, adjusting the microphone stand so it was the right height, and then settled back on his stool and pulled his guitar out and on to his lap. There were butterflies in his stomach that had nothing to do with performance nerves; Kurt was standing to the side of the dance floor, hands clasped in front of him, staring at Blaine intently, his expression eager and hungry. Blaine couldn't disappoint, not only him but also Will and Emma.

"Hello, everyone," he started out awkwardly, calling everyone's attention to him once the DJ had cut his music off. "For those who don't know me, my name is Blaine Anderson, and I'm one of Mr. Schuester's students. He asked me to prepare a song, and I wasn't really sure which I should do. I decided on a non-typical song that still speaks to the hopeless romantics. I hope you enjoy it," he finished with a little smile. With a couple head nods to find his rhythm, Blaine launched into the careful, gentle melody while Finn accompanied him on the drums.

 _Maybe it's intuition_  
Some things you just don't question  
Like in your eyes  
I see my future and I missed it  
And there it goes; I think I found my best friend

 _I know that it might sound more than a little crazy_  
But I believe  
I knew I loved you before I met you  
I think I dreamed you here tonight  
I knew I loved you before I met you  
I have been waiting all my life

It was raw and emotional and real because Blaine had stopped singing the song to Will and Emma long ago; his eyes expressed every vulnerable emotion he felt in each moment, and he could not look anywhere else but into Kurt's face. And in the middle of the song was when Blaine truly realized that he was  _Kurt's_ , that he belonged to Kurt in every way conceivable. To make Kurt happy, Blaine would go to the ends of the earth and back, would cross oceans and deserts, because Kurt's smile was what made every hardship worthwhile. There was nothing Blaine wouldn't do to insure that he spent the rest of his life by Kurt's side, because that was where he belonged. Blaine barely  _existed_ when he did not have Kurt; the only time he felt sure of himself was when he was in love. There was no  _Blaine_ , anymore, or just  _Kurt._ It was Kurt and Blaine, no more and no less. He could see in Kurt's eyes that he was forgiven, and that he was loved again.

Blaine finished the song and nodded his head to the smattering of applause, but his mind was already miles ahead of his body, yearning to wrap Kurt up in his arms and drink in his sweet scent. He ran down the steps to the stage and made a beeline for Kurt, who was standing stick straight, his eyes wide. Blaine stopped, their faces inches from each other, and he gazed into Kurt's eyes, liquid and melting and no longer cold against his. And he looked until he was sure, and then he took his hand and led him away from the ballroom to the front desk of the hotel. And he ordered a room and exchanged cash for the key, and Kurt followed him silently up to the third floor, and they stumbled through the doorway of their hotel room.

It was fresh and clean, although it probably could have been filthy and neither of them would have noticed it. They did nothing but hold hands and look into each other's eyes, and when they'd finally stripped away every barrier they'd each created against the outside world, they stripped away layers that separated them from each other.

Blaine took Kurt's hand and led him to the bed, turning down the bed and pulling him down gently beneath the covers. Blaine slipped in next to him, sliding his hand over the smooth skin of Kurt's cheek, hesitating over a scar by his neck. He noticed the way Kurt's breath still hitched when he brushed over his earlobe, and the sensitive skin at the base of his throat.

"Lights on or off?" Blaine whispered.

Kurt captured his lower lip for a moment before deciding, "On. I want to see you."

Slowly, savoring every moment he was allowed to touch this perfect creature in front of him, Blaine intertwined first one, and then both bare legs with Kurt's, relishing the heat and heavy comfort. Their fingers laced together, calloused fingertips skimming velvety smooth ones. Kurt leaned forward slightly to put his chin on Blaine's bare chest, their eyes never leaving each other. In the dead silence, Blaine could have sworn he heard Kurt's heartbeat right along with his own.

 _I love you_. But he could not say it yet; so instead he let Kurt feel it, with touches to his alabaster skin in every place that made him shudder in delicate pleasure. Kurt nestled tight to Blaine's chest, while he drew circles across Kurt's finely-toned shoulders and back, fingers hesitating at the base of his spine.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered. "Kiss me."

The momentary press of lips to lips was the sheer greatest, if the most fleeting, moment in Blaine's life. It was so much  _more_  than either of them could possibly say; it was the apology and the acceptance; it was the  _I love you_ and the  _I love you too_ ; it was the _marry me_ ; it was the  _I do._ It was the promise to fight for each other, to never let each other go again. It was  _eternity_ , sealed with a kiss.

And each kiss was followed by another, and with it more promises, more hope and more certainty than Blaine ever imagined. This was _love_ , this would never be anything less than that. Though they'd lost sight of it, it was in front of them now, staring each other in the face, embraced in each other's arms.

"Kurt I love you so much," Blaine murmured between kisses, all the while fighting to draw a breath.

Kurt responded with an enthusiastic chuckle and a peck to the cheek. "I love you," he said.

That was Blaine's permission. Those were the words Blaine  _needed_ before he could let this happen. He breathed a sigh of relief into Kurt's shoulder, pecking a dark spot there.

He heard Kurt hiss slightly in pain. Blaine pulled back to look him in the face, and Kurt's wince was evident. Blaine looked back to the spot he'd kissed, running the pad of his thumb over it gently. Kurt made a small noise of protest.

"Is this . . . is this a bruise, Kurt?"

Kurt nodded, his hand hanging in shame. And now that Blaine was looking, he could see them, spotting Kurt along his back and sides. A rising sense of dread rose in him that he futilely tried to swallow down.

"Are they all . . ."

"Yes," said Kurt shakily. "When—When I went to break it off with Adam—"

Blaine broke him off with a choked sob, knowing what was coming next and knowing that hearing it would only make him angry and violent. Instead he shushed Kurt with a kiss, not to his lips but to the blue bruise on his shoulder, and the purple one right below it. Kurt made tiny whimpers but held Blaine closer, lacing his long fingers through his now-loose dark curls. With the utmost care, Blaine lay Kurt on his back and carefully positioned himself on top of him, placing his legs so they straddled Kurt's belly. Because this made for a very awkward kissing angle, Blaine slid down Kurt's torso until his cotton briefs slipped against the cool silk of Kurt's boxers. The effect was instantaneous: Kurt's pupils blew wide with pleasure, his lips parting and his eyelashes fluttering. Blaine captured Kurt's bottom lip with his, biting gently as he brought his hips down again to meet Kurt's. The moan that fell from Kurt's lips was delicious and wanton and Blaine decided that he needed to hear  _more_ , so he raked a fingernail over one of Kurt's dusky pink nipples.

Kurt turned his head to the side to pant, his face and chest flushing red as he moaned with pleasure. Blaine busied his mouth by clamping down on the sensitive part of Kurt's collarbone, meeting Kurt's hips thrust for thrust as they bucked wildly. Blaine's skin was on fire, everywhere that Kurt touched him, a blaze that only heightened his level of ecstasy. There was another part of him, though, that was drowning, lost and confused in these tremendous waves of emotions that changed as easily as the sea. He'd been devastated, joyous, and so in love he felt heartsick all in a short matter of time, and he was surprised that his heart and mind could even stand up to that kind of contrast. Then again, it was so hard to think when he had a writhing almost-naked Kurt beneath him.

Blaine reached a hand down in between them and palmed Kurt gently through his boxers. Kurt's back arched, his mouth screaming Blaine's name. Blaine half-smirked at the man, but he was too far gone to notice, head buried in the pillow to stifle his yells of bliss. Blaine wanted – no, Blaine  _needed_ to make Kurt feel good. He needed Kurt to forget about his bruises, forget about anyone else that wasn't Blaine, forget his own  _name_.

Blaine sat back on to Kurt's thighs and moved his hands away, to Kurt's great protest.

"Blaine," he said breathlessly, his chest heaving and his hair disheveled. There was a question in his eyes that Blaine didn't bother to answer, too focused on the task at hand. Running his hands down the sharp edges of Kurt's hips and down, down to the waistband of his boxers, Blaine hooked his fingers in and pulled them down swiftly. Kurt's cock curved smoothly and rested on his stomach, flushed and hard. Kurt was panting heavily, watching Blaine, needing him to do something –  _anything –_ to lessen the ache. Blaine, always willing to oblige, took Kurt into his hands, carefully, his touch gentle and hesitant although his intent had been anything but. It was just the first time he'd seen Kurt in  _this_ way in such a long time. Suddenly Blaine was imagining someone else seeing Kurt like this – vulnerable, utterly wrecked, naked with bucking hips and eyes brimming with desire – and he felt an overwhelming surge of protectiveness, the need to defend what was his. It was an instinctual, raw, even animal concept, but Blaine needed to mark Kurt as his mate – as his alone.

Without thinking, Blaine bit at the sensitive skin of Kurt's thighs, all the while stroking Kurt's cock, with just enough pressure to make Kurt cry out. Blaine sucked and worked at the spot, not giving Kurt what he really needed, needing to make this mark that came from an act of love, not violence. When Blaine was satisfied and the spot had turned a dark red, he moved his mouth from Kurt's leg to his cock, sealing his lips around the head and sucking hard. That was all Kurt needed to come, his body tremoring and shaking beneath Blaine's hands as he worked Kurt through his orgasm. When at last Kurt had calmed down, he reached out blindly with his hand and Blaine took it, kissing it first before holding it tightly to his chest. They lay there a moment, basking in the scent of sex and sweat, burning with each other's heat.

"Blaine," Kurt gasped finally, his hands holding out and making a grabbing motion. Blaine slid up Kurt's body slowly and blanketed him, kissing Kurt sweetly and chaste.

"Thank you." Kurt's voice was raspy from yelling. "I love you."

Blaine nestled into Kurt's neck, his heart swelling with joy. "I love you too."

"Oh!" Kurt exclaimed. Blaine looked up questioningly to see Kurt's face slowly turning red. "Blaine, I'm so sorry, what about you—"

"It's, uh—," Blaine coughed, embarrassed. "Taken care of already."

"Oh." Kurt allowed a small smile. "Next time, then."

Blaine's heart leaped into his throat. "Next time," he agreed, but his voice betrayed his relief. He breathed deeply, taking in the sweet scent of Kurt's skin and feeling the burn of his collarbone against Blaine's cheek. He hummed in pleasure when Kurt began slowly dragging his fingers through Blaine's stiff curls, working them loose and letting them fall around his face. Blaine closed his eyes and focused on the sensation, of the heat and pressure of Kurt beneath him, feeling sleepy but not wanting to fall asleep on top of Kurt.

"Why does love hurt so much?" Kurt asked, his voice pure of everything but curiosity.

Blaine processed his response carefully. "I suppose . . . you have to get through the bad times to get to the good ones. Darkest before the dawn and all that." His answer was vague, even flippant, in order to not reveal how much the question actually scared him.

"Can I – uh, Blaine, I think I should say something. Just to clear the air. I want . . . this, again, but I just need to say something first."

Kurt sounded afraid. Of who? Of Blaine?

Blaine raised his head to look Kurt in the eyes. "Okay," he said timidly, his smile full of false encouragement. Dread snaked its way into Blaine's heart.

Kurt's eyelids fluttered and his lips formed an 'O' as they blew warm air from his lips. "When—When you did . . . what you did, Blaine, it hurt. I felt so sad, and so betrayed. Because, ever since my junior year when we met, I felt like you were my protector. You helped me fight off my demons, and together we helped change people's minds about us. I loved you, but it was more than that, too – I  _adored_  you. You were my hero and I  _know_ that you saved my life. I was in such a bad place, but I met you and I saw everything I was blind to before – hope, a future, even love. You were the first boy I ever let myself lay my trust in; even when you were pursuing someone else, I stuck by you because you'd stuck by me. When I left for New York, it hurt so badly to leave you behind. I wished more than anything that I could take you with me. This was never just a short term thing for me – I planned on forever with you, Blaine. You were the one for me, and I was resolute about not living my life without you."

Kurt paused to collect himself and take a breath. Blaine, on the other hand, was struggling to even comprehend what Kurt was saying.

"I was too distant in New York. I was focusing so much on Vogue that I forgot about everyone else, you included. I felt like I was cutting you out of my life, even though that was my last intention. But, at the same time, I felt like I had to make a choice – jumpstart my career into the fashion world, or focus on personal relationships. And even without conscious effort, you became second to my work. I'd call you after I was done writing the article, and I'd send you an email only after I replied to another about my thoughts on a design idea. I felt so guilty, and I'd lay in bed when I knew it was too late to call you, and I would  _miss_ you. And I knew I was being neglectful, and I know I wasn't there for you when I should have been, but I just felt so  _left out_. You were having new adventures with new friends and I was your boyfriend, stuck 600 miles away, doing a shitty job of making you happy, which was all I wanted to accomplish in the first place.

"I was so happy that night you came to New York the first time. I didn't care that my apartment was messy and small or that we had to share the night awkwardly with Rachel, Finn, and Brody. Because we were finally in New York, together, and it was all I'd ever wanted for us. And I just thought, if we could make it through the end of the year, and you came out to live with me in New York, that would be it. We'd date until we were ready to get married, and then we'd live the rest of our lives in blissful serenity. I saw it so clearly – it was so tangible that night. I saw us walking through Central Park when we were both thirty, with wedding bands on our fingers and years of history and love between us. And then you told me."

Kurt's fingers grew stiff with tension in Blaine's hair, gripping rather than stroking. Blaine shut his eyes to trap the tears before they fell, but they slipped down his cheeks regardless. Kurt's voice wavered a couple times before he could continue.

"My entire world caved in. Every hope I'd had for us vanished with a single sentence. You said 'I was with someone' and my heart was no longer in my own chest – it was under your foot, and you had trampled it. I didn't recognize you; the Blaine I knew and loved would never hurt me. The Blaine I knew would never do such hurtful things. And I asked myself why you could have done this to me, how you could have betrayed me so deeply after you'd done so much for me. But I hurt you too." Kurt's voice was thick with emotion. "Not in the same way; I left you alone. I remember what that felt like, to feel like you have absolutely no one to go to, and nowhere to turn. And I hated myself so much for forcing you to feel that. I never hated you, though. I couldn't find it in myself to hate you. My pride was wounded, maybe, and you left a big hole in my chest that really never healed, but I didn't resent you for it. I cried a lot, when it was night and I felt like my heart would never stop hurting. And I wanted to ask you so many things that I didn't want to know the answer to. And I wanted to see you; I wanted you to tell me that it was a lie, that you still loved me like I loved you. I knew you did, knew you always would. But every time I thought about seeing you, or talking to you, I would picture your face when you'd told me that you cheated. Everything I thought about you changed so completely. I felt like . . . like I was in love with this person who no longer existed. The person you'd turned into wasn't the person I fell in love with; but I also realized that I wasn't the same as I was a year ago. That's when I forgave you. Because I realized that loving someone meant loving every facet of them, good or otherwise. And I didn't want to give up on you, and us."

Kurt looked down, feeling obviously vulnerable and scared. The sadness in his eyes of having to relate that story made him seem years older, jaded with hardships. Blaine could hardly look at him, could not let himself succumb to the suffering he'd endured without Kurt. Blaine wished he could be anywhere else, his guilt climbing in his throat and threatening to spill over his lips. Carefully Blaine flopped over next to Kurt, staring wordlessly at the ceiling. His lips tremored and his hands shook. Guilt was the heaviest emotion; it settled inside of you and pressed weightily upon your body. It made your limbs numb and your throat too small.

"Hey," said Kurt gently, rolling to face Blaine, stroking his cheek softly. Blaine felt ashamed, heated, unable to look at Kurt's eyes. He'd owned up to his mistake, but it was so much harder with Kurt here, and accepting his apology.

"I don't deserve you," Blaine warbled throatily.

"Hush," Kurt whispered, placing a soothing kiss to Blaine's birthmark on his shoulder. "We make mistakes. We wouldn't be human if we didn't."

Blaine carefully turned to face Kurt, staring at his nose because he still couldn't face up to this breathtaking blue eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I know."


	5. Five

****_"Do I love you? Do I hate you?  
I can't make up my mind.  
So let's free fall, and see where we land."_

'Where We Land' by Ed Sheeran

* * *

Blaine woke blearily, stretching out an arm, expecting it to rest upon another body. When his hand met only cold air, his eyes flashed open to see an empty bed next to him. The sheets were still rumpled, but the pillow was fluffed and smooth. Blaine felt equal parts dismayed and bitter that Kurt had already left; in a way he should have expected it, although he hoped to wake up next to him regardless.

Blaine rolled over to look at the time on the alarm clock. It read eleven fifteen, just over an hour after the party ended. He untangled his legs from the sheets and glanced around for his underwear, finding them by the end of the bed and pulling them on. He really,  _really_ didn't want to put his formal wedding attire back on, but he couldn't find a better alternative and ended up pulling on his slacks and buttoning up his dress shirt. A quick glance in the mirror told him that his hair was nowhere near presentable, but it was late and Blaine had a bit of champagne and what he really wanted to do was go home and sleep and not think about Kurt. That last part, of course, would also be the hardest. At least with sleep came some sort of oblivion.

Blaine dragged his fingers through his hair harshly, wondrous at himself for believing that something with Kurt could actually happen again. Sure, Kurt had said he was considering the possibility of getting back together, but his speech had been filled with a lot of hurt that Blaine was positive Kurt hadn't fully dealt with; maybe tonight had been a horrible mistake. What if sleeping together not only hurt their chances at rekindling their relationship, but also wrecked their friendship? It was enough to make Blaine rip his heart out of his chest; if it wasn't in his body, at least he wouldn't have to feel it rip and tear with every wrenching memory of Kurt his mind brought to the surface.

He had been so  _sure_ that they'd relit their flame, once they'd danced and Blaine had sung and everything that needed to be said between them had been spoken with their eyes. But it was just too fast; Blaine should never have booked the room, never dragged Kurt into something that he was still unsure about. He remembered Kurt murmuring ' _I love you'_ into his ear, and it felt like a blow to the gut. Because Blaine, caught up in the moment and the sensations and caught up in  _Kurt_ , wanted so badly to believe him that he actually  _did._ And Kurt had woken up and realized what a huge mistake it had been. Blaine choked off a sob and did his best not to collapse onto the carpet.

Kurt may have left, but he'd left behind his bowtie, so Blaine picked up in and slipped it into his pocket. Blaine wiped his wet eyes with a sleeve, picked up his own discarded tie and suit jacket, and slipped the room key into his pocket. He decided there was really no use staying and breathing in Kurt's lingering scent for much longer. Slipping his shoes on with some difficulty, finally Blaine managed to escape the room. It was only then that he breathed a sigh of relief. Being away from the room already helped him to forget.

But just barely.

Blaine meandered down the hall, head hanging low in fear that someone would see him and recognize the disheveled, depressed look of someone who'd just had sex and then been abandoned. It was mortifying and he just prayed none of his friends would wander out to see him without Kurt. It would require more explaining than he was capable of. He shuffled down the hall, his feet scuffing the rough carpet, his heart squeezing tightly.

Finally Blaine made it to the elevator and pushed the down arrow. The bell chimed and the doors opened, and Blaine found himself face to face with a red-eyed, miserable Kurt.

Wide eyed, Kurt could only gape at Blaine, his lips moving silently. Seeing Kurt made Blaine feel irrationally angry, his cheeks becoming heated.

"Blaine," Kurt sputtered weakly. "You're awake."

"Yes." Blaine crossed his arms over his chest. "You left." His tone was biting, cold.

The doors of the elevator began to close and Kurt dived to put his hand over the door and keep it open. "I . . . yes." His head fell. "I was just coming back up to the room because I forgot my bowtie."

Blaine reached into his pocket and pulled out the little fake bowtie with the chain attachment. "Here," he said colorlessly, his voice borderline rude.

Kurt stepped forward, away from the elevator and toward him, taking the bowtie from his hand. He was biting his lip, the way he always did when he had something to say but couldn't word properly. "Look, Blaine, I'm—"

"Sorry?" Blaine cut him off harshly. "For what? Filling me with false hope? For sleeping with me and then running away as soon as we were done? For telling me you loved me?" Blaine swept his hands in front of him in a disregarding manner. "It's fine. Whatever."  _Fuck you_ , he said in his head, too afraid to voice it.

"N-No, Blaine, that wasn't my intention at all. I was just very overwhelmed, I needed some fresh air. This is all happening so fast, I wasn't prepared and I really just needed to think things over—"

"Think  _what_ over? I thought you wanted this; I thought you wanted  _me_! Was that a lie? Were you just leading me on so you could get laid? I didn't think you could be so shallow, Kurt."

Kurt felt his anger building, adrenaline flooding his veins as their voices became louder and higher. "That isn't what I  _said_! I  _do_ want you, Blaine, but this needs to go slowly! I'm still dealing with what happened before, and what happened with Adam. Can't you see how  _broken_ I am?" Kurt exclaimed, his voice cracking.

Blaine's heart sank like a rock. The words wouldn't come, no matter how many times he attempted to force something out.

"When Adam hit me after I broke up with him . . . well, it wasn't the first time." Kurt's face was expressionless. Blaine was suddenly very aware of the lack of oxygen around him; he couldn't get enough in his lungs. "It was only occasionally, when he was very drunk. But that's not really an excuse for it." Kurt's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I shouldn't have stayed with him, but I thought that I needed someone, and he was there and he liked me. Only now do I see how stupid I was to stay in that kind of relationship just because I was scared of being alone."

"K-Kurt," Blaine finally choked out. "I don't know what to say—"

"Don't." Kurt reached up and pulled aside his collar. "This mark—" he pointed to an angry red splotch by his ear "—came from  _you_ , Blaine, in a moment of passion and—and  _love_. This mark means so much more to me than any mark that came from an act of violence. You'd never hurt me in the way that Adam did; I realized this tonight. I knew I owed it to you to forgive you, when you've gone so out of your way to make me see your regret. Adam was never even sorry afterwards."

Blaine, caught up in the moment and his need to touch Kurt, reached out and wrapped the man up in the gentlest, warmest embrace. "I didn't mean to yell at you," he whispered quietly. "I understand that you're overwhelmed. But when I woke up without you, I'd thought it was over. I thought you ran because you couldn't bear to face me and tell me tonight was a mistake."

"No," said Kurt, resting his chin on Blaine's shoulder. "I don't think it was a mistake. You were so gentle, so careful with me; every time you touched me, I felt . . . cherished? It felt . . . well, it felt like we'd never broken up." He allowed himself a small grin. "I left because I needed to be alone with my thoughts and think about it. I just needed time to process it. It didn't mean anything, I promise."

"Does this, I mean . . . does this mean you want to get back together?" Blaine spoke quietly, a sliver of hope slipping into his voice.

Kurt pretended to think about it for a moment, a finger on his chin mockingly, alleviating some of the tension of the situation. "I think so. If you ask me nicely," he teased.

"Kurt?"

"Yes, Blaine?" Kurt replied, feigning innocence.

"Will you be my boyfriend?"

Kurt smiled, the genuine smile that Blaine felt warm his fingers and toes. He stroked Blaine's cheek thoughtfully, the softest brush of skin against skin. "Yes." After a pause, "I love you Blaine."

Blaine hummed in contentment, wanting to lose himself in the moment but also never wanting to forget the significance of it. "I love you, Kurt. So much." They kissed briefly, and it was so sweet and chaste and so much like their very first. "So what happens now?" Blaine whispered into Kurt's ear, nuzzling against his soft skin.

"I don't really know," Kurt admitted, not having given it much thought, distracted by the sensation of Blaine placing a gentle kiss to the spot below his ear. Then Blaine pulled back, brushing a stray hair from Kurt's face, finally facing his brilliant blue eyes and losing himself in their depths.

"Let's just . . . free fall, and see where we land."


End file.
